


A Full Figure

by Aris_Silverfin



Series: The Feeding Captain Crieff Trilogy [3]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Belly Rubs, Confessions of love, Feeding Kink, Implied sexy times, M/M, Overeating, Weight Gain, belly stuffing, fat appreciation, feederism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1754899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aris_Silverfin/pseuds/Aris_Silverfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final part of Douglas's feeding up of Martin. Douglas finally decides he ought to be honest with Martin about his feelings and so takes him out for a fancy and filling dinner. He's confident that things will turn out well, but you never know for certain do you? Contains: Feeding, moderate weight gain, belly stuffing kink and rubbing, and several delicious dishes. Hurrah!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Full Figure

Over the next month or so, if asked, Douglas would tell you that things were going very well indeed thank you very much. He was seeing quite a lot of his captain outside of the flight deck. They were growing friendlier. Martin was looking happier, softer, as his worries melted away. Douglas had even allowed his hand to linger on Martin's shoulder and the man had seemed perilously close to leaning into him. Perhaps he was succeeding in wooing him after all.

There was a new vitality about Martin. People were giving him more than half a glance as he stood straighter, had more presence and confidence somehow. The warm food Douglas wheedled into his belly was in turn being broken down into energy and components that were able to make Martin more... well more everything really. His shoulders looked squarer, his cheekbones less prominent. His eyes lost that sunken look that had often plagued them. His uniform was not as overlarge and baggy. It actually seemed to fit, no longer looking like a child trying on his father's clothes. Yes Douglas was quite pleased he could help Martin in such away. The man seemed to enjoy himself at any rate. Now there were just those gooey little details called feelings that had to be put in order. And then. Well, then perhaps Douglas could cook for Martin even more regularly and see if his wiriness was down to genetics or malnutrition.

Douglas decided a restaurant might be the most suitable convocation for this conversation. Even footing for both of them would avoid too much awkwardness, should Douglas have overstepped himself. He proposed the idea to Martin after a flight under the guise of a job well done. Martin simply flashed him a smile and agreed. Douglas couldn't help the small jaunty swing that seemed to enter his stride as he walked back to his Lexus that evening. He felt surprisingly giddy. He would have thought he had outgrown that sort of fluffy nonsense years ago.

Still, the feeling seemed to persist as the week rolled around to the Wednesday evening they had chosen. Martin arrived at his first officer's home, smartly dressed, and then Douglas chauffeured them to the restaurant. They chatted in the car, Douglas found himself smiling more and more easily in the presence of the other man. He hoped tonight would go well. Soon, they had arrived and were seated at the table Douglas had reserved for them. He quite enjoyed turning on the romance for the ginger captain in all honesty. The man's face simply lit up at the slightest gesture. Douglas took the liberty of ordering a wine for his date and asked for his usual water with lemon.

"You're looking very well, Martin if you don't mind me saying," said Douglas, still wary of giving his hand away too soon. The moment needed to be perfect. Maximize his luck. His was competing against Martin's legendarily bad luck tonight after all.

Martin blinked and then ducked his head slightly, lovely color rising in his cheeks. "Oh, uh no. I don't mean don't say that- O-or I mean I think I look-I mean I don't mind you saying- Thanks," he spluttered then reached hurriedly for his wine glass to hide behind.

"Merely an observation I have found to be accurate, mon capitain," drawled Douglas, taking a drink from his own water glass far more gracefully than Martin had done. He flashed him a kind winning smile in an effort to put the younger man at ease.

It seemed to work, Martin's grin spread wider even as the flush crept back to his ears. Really now. That was almost too endearing.

"Might I dictate the menu for tonight?" continued Douglas, smoothly as ever, "I know of some truly excellent dishes here that you might enjoy. I know the chef myself."

"Of course you do," chuckled Martin, grinning shyly up at his first officer, "But er, yeah. I don't mind. What are we having then?"

"A quite phenomenal mushroom risotto to begin I think," answered Douglas, beaming and feeling delighted at the opportunity to show off. He ordered the dish from the waiter as he returned to their table, "Oh and for the main course, I'll have the duck. My splendid friend, here, will have the filet mignon." Douglas felt a small secret smile steal across his lips as Martin's tongue poked out to wet his own at that.

"Wow, Douglas, really?" asked Martin, tentatively.

"But of course. Only the best for my gallant captain," replied Douglas as the waiter left. Martin blinked and looked down at his lap. For a moment, Douglas wondered if he had gone too far. He was hinting rather heavily, he supposed. He hurriedly changed the subject by asking how Martin's Icarus Removals business was going and the other man latched onto it like a life ring.

Then their first course arrived, hot and steaming, rich and creamy. The plates were a quite generous portion, which Douglas was glad of. Martin could always do with a hearty meal. Douglas sent his fork to gather his first bite, still chatting politely with Martin as he watched the other man take in his plate. He watched Martin's nostrils flair at the delectable scent, watched those plump lips part in preparation. The first bite was scooped up on the fork held by long slim fingers, beautiful rice and mushroom in a thick sauce. He watched the bite enter into Martin's mouth and then smiled at the other man groaned in approval.

"Oh, that's good! I'm glad I didn't have much for lunch I want to eat absolutely all of this," said Martin enthusiastically as he quickly scooped up more of the risotto. Douglas felt a tiny tug of sorrow at the thought of Martin's tiny lunch, but promised himself that could soon change. They ate happily for a few moments, sipping at wine and making pointless comments about how delicious things tasted (really both of them knew that), and soon Martin's plate had been scraped clean. Douglas's still held a quarter of his portion.

"Care to swap?" asked Douglas innocently, "My duck plate is quite a masterpiece. I fear I wouldn't be able to finish it if I had more of my starter."

"Uh," said Martin, his eyes flicking over to Douglas's plate, "Sure, why not? Does that mean my filet mignon is less of a masterpiece?" The ginger grinned cheekily. Douglas chuckled in return.

"Not at all. But I'm confident in your abilities, captain," he replied, holding up his almost eaten plate. Martin bit his lower lip, eyes on the remaining food and then reached out to take it as he passed Douglas his own empty one. Soon the two plates were equally spotless and Martin was sipping contentedly at his wine.

"Mmm, that was fantastic. I can't wait to try the next course," said Martin, one hand drifting discretely to what Douglas imagined must be the man's stomach. Douglas also found himself wondering whether Martin's trousers were already feeling more snug around the waist thanks to their frequent meals together. A smile slid across his features.

"What are you smiling about?" teased Martin, a bit giggly from his wine.

"Oh... nothing really," said Douglas, "What are you giggling about?"

"Oh, nothing," echoed Martin with a tiny snort.

The main courses arrived, and Douglas missed his chance at a retort. Damn. He'd had a good one lined up as well, one that could segway into the real topic of tonight's meal. Still, he wasn't about to complain. Not when he saw Martin's eyes widen hungrily at the plate laid before him. Douglas's own duck plate, was beautiful yes, but Martin's was magnificent.

A perfectly cooked steak, browned and bathed in red wine and balsamic vinegar sat as the centerpiece. Around it, lay long shoots of deep green asparagus and a pile of tiny tender new potatoes. Martin took in his plate for a moment more and then tucked in. Douglas neglected his own first bite as Martin let out a sort of odd whimper as the tender steak practically melted in his mouth.

"Ooh that's good," breathed Martin, eyes falling closed, "God, how did I go this long without ever tasting that before?"

"No idea. Good thing you won't have to go nearly as long before you can taste it again," chuckled Douglas, lifting up his own bite of duck and eating it. Martin laughed and quickly cut himself another bite. Soon the potatos were joining the filet mignon, one by one as they passed Martin's lips, were reduced to hot smooth mash and then sent gliding down the captain's throat with appreciative little grunts. Long shoots of asparagus were swallowed down, ever so slightly bitter but salted and seasoned to perfection. Douglas made his way steadily through his own plate. Martin demolished his and stretched back with a happy sigh.

Douglas's fork paused halfway to his mouth as he witnessed the perfect pooch of warm well-fed belly pushing out against Martin's shirt. He longed to touch, caress the round little bulge with his fingers. Then later perhaps his tongue. But no, that wasn't polite conversation and now Martin was giving him an odd sort of look. Was it perhaps a bit hopeful?

"Feeling well?" asked Douglas primly as he ate another bite of duck in sauce.

"Yeah, really well," said Martin, smiling slightly before returning to a more troubled look. It was very much the look of someone hesitant to speak his mind. The captain bit his lip again. And really he must stop doing that. It was indecent the way Douglas's eyes seemed to become glued to those lovely pink lips when he did.

"Er, Douglas," began Martin, seeming to have decided to speak up, "Er, not that I don't, I mean. I really like our dinners and stuff. But er..."

Ah, so he was seeking to beat Douglas at his own game it seemed.

"You wish for them to stop?" asked Douglas, imagining and hoping for the opposite.

"Oh no! I mean, er, no. I don't want that. I just," Martin was looking frazzled. He took a long gulp of wine and opened his mouth to speak again, but the words still wouldn't quite creep past his teeth.

"You are perhaps wondering if I have some sort of ulterior motive or scheme for taking my captain to dinner," supplied Douglas, lounging back in his seat, exuding nonchalance even as his heart rate began to climb, "While that would not be far from my usual approach to life and the various situations it encompasses, I must deny that claim in this case. I have no motive other than spending some time with my captain. Whom, I must say, I have grown quite extraordinarily fond of... as a colleague..."

Martin looked up, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"And as a friend..."

Martin flinched and his hands tightened on the table cloth.

He began to splutter, "Oh, yeah of course. It's stupid of me to-"

"And as a romantic interest," said Douglas, speaking over Martin's tumbling words. The ginger looked like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

"Oh," he said, his voice oddly hushed, "Hang on. So... you. You do?"

"Find you attractive? Yes. Like you? Yes. Care about you? Yes," said Douglas, laying all his cards out on the table. He hesitated, "I find I care about you. An awful lot, Martin. And I would very much like to endanger the professionalism of our working environment by seeing more of you."

Martin still looked oddly frozen. He made to reach for his wine, but his hands were shaking too badly so he just folded them in his lap and looked at them. Douglas gave him time, even as his heart made a sickening flip flop in his chest. It didn't like being exposed like this.

Finally, Martin looked up and asked quietly, "Er, this isn't a joke, is it? You're not just pulling my leg?"

"Not at all, would I be so cruel?" asked Douglas, wishing his voice had sounded a bit more normal. Martin, luckily, didn't seem to be in a fit state to notice.

"Good," said Martin, a tentative smile spreading across his lips, "Good. Yeah. Good. I'm. I-I'm glad. I care about you, too, Douglas." His voice sounded slightly breathless, and Douglas found he really quite loved the sound of that tone as well.

"Splendid," said Douglas, grinning, "Dessert, my dear? Of course it's all on me tonight. You are my date."

"S-sure," stuttered Martin, ducking his head and smiling at his hands before straightening and clearing his throat, "I mean, yes. Thank you. I'd love some. What sort do they have?"

"Well, they do a rather marvelous molten chocolate lava cake," answered Douglas, feeling warmth spread through him at the thought that Martin's feelings were mutual, "I insist you must try that."

"Mm, that sounds great. I don't think I've ever had that before either," said Martin, sitting up a bit and tugging absently at his waistband. He was feeling a bit full, but that sounded like it would be worth the effort.

"Then you shall have it," said Douglas, signalling their waiter and placing the order along with a bowl of their freshly made vanilla bean ice cream.

"Is the ice cream for you?" asked Martin, smiling more openly and stretching over a foot to nudge at Douglas's ankle.

"No," said Douglas, brushing his own back, "It's excellent and also for you."

"Oh," said Martin, flushing a bit pink, "Uh, I would have been fine with just the cake really. I'm already pretty full."

Douglas nodded and reached to take Martin's hand. The other man, looked at their joined hands and then up at Douglas with a steadier smile.

"Yes, I imagine so," allowed Douglas, "But here is the second part of my confession. I rather like the idea of caring for you. Making sure your needs are met. Supporting you. Feeding you up."

Martin blinked and swallowed, then looked down at his stomach. Looking wary, he ventured to make a confession of his own, "Uh, okay. I can understand that. And I'd be happy to let you," the younger man smiled, "Truth is, I've always hated how skinny I looked growing up. Simon was always bigger than me so I was the skinny awkward one. I'd... I'd like to not look so peaky anymore. It would um... I'd like..."

He blushed even darker, but Douglas smiled understandingly and gave the other man's hands a squeeze. "I can understand," he said, kindly, "I think we may suit each other perfectly in that respect. I'd be more than happy to help you out. Only as far as you'd like, mind."

Martin nodded and shifted in his chair again, looking slightly breathless at the thought. Well, to be fair, Douglas was feeling that way too.

Thankfully dessert arrived to break the tension. Douglas nudged the plate and bowl over to Martin.

"Well, Martin my dear, consider this meal the first of many," he said, sitting back to watch.

Martin chuckled, and felt any self consciousness drain away. Douglas was encouraging him to eat to his heart's content. To enjoy himself. He wouldn't judge him or think him a pig for rising from the table with a stomach so full it stuck out more than when he had sat down. It was almost too good to be true. He dipped his fork into the lava cake and watched avidly as hot molten chocolate cascaded out onto his plate. He swept his bite through it and then ate it.

"Mmmph, oh, thank you, Douglas," he groaned, his eyes falling shut in pleasure. He took a bit of ice cream and dragged that through the chocolate next, humming as it melted in his mouth.

"My pleasure, mon amour," murmured Douglas, smiling and shifting a bit closer, "You enjoy yourself."

Martin did. He ate bite after bite, scooping at the ice cream, taking bits of rich chocolatey cake and dragging every bit of it through the lava cake's sweet innards. Soon the cake was gone and only half a bowl of ice cream remained. Martin muffled a belch and leaned back, his fork clinking against the plate as he leaned back for a moment. "Hmmph, hah 'm full. I don't think I can finish," he breathed, his hands moving down to press expermentally at his belly which felt swollen and solid and positively wonderful under his fingers.

"Oh?" purred Douglas, getting up from his side of the table. "This is the bit where I come in then, if you don't mind..." He sat himself at Martin's side and lifted up the fork again. He collected a bit more of the ice cream and held it out to Martin. The other pilot stared at it for a moment as if unsure what it was, but then tentatively let his lips part. Douglas guided the ice cream in and Martin let his eyes fall closed as he took the cold dessert from the fork. It melted on his tongue and he swallowed it as cream, grunting as it slid down his throat to the full stomach beneath. He opened his eyes and found his breathing had gone a bit funny.

"Douglas," he managed, pupils blown wide, "Huh, I don't mind at all."

"Glad to hear it," rumbled the first officer, gathering another bite of ice cream and sending it to those pretty lips again. They parted, and Martin accepted another bite. Then another. And again. Then he groaned and pressed into his stomach again as it gurgled at him.

"Here, let me help," said Douglas, his voice soft, gentle, and low. He slid his free hand over to rest a warm palm on Martin's round little belly and oh if that didn't feel spectacular. The skin was warm and tight beneath the shirt, the shape of it wonderfully round. He pressed lightly and Martin winced, then rubbed gently. The younger man, muffled another burp and then gave a soft whimper. Douglas forced his own breathing to stay steady. But it was a battle. His fingers sought another hard spot and eased it with a few clever little rubs.

"Think you can manage the rest now?" asked the old Sky God.

Martin's eyes opened blearily once again. He looked at the bowl. It wasn't much. And it felt so... good.

"Yeah," he said in a quiet exhale of breath, then opened his mouth for more. Douglas fed him and rubbed at his distended stomach that was now pressing quite insistently against his waistband. Martin grunted softly and shifted back, then opened his mouth for more.

"You are incredible, mon amour," murmured Douglas encouragingly, "Just a few bites more."

Martin huffed a breath and opened his mouth again. He squeezed his eyes shut as he swallowed down another bite. His trousers were biting into his belly as it stretched and creaked to make room. Douglas's hand continued to rub and coax. Then the bowl was empty and Martin couldn't hold back a groan.

"How do you feel?" asked Douglas, tracing around the shape of Martin's burgeoning belly.

"Perfect," sighed the younger man, tugging at his waist band again, "But a bit, well, fat."

"You look wonderful, my dear," said Douglas warmly, "Though I imagine you are a little uncomfortable. Shall we return to mine? I can lend you a pair of my pajama bottoms that may be a bit to large for you, but should be more forgiving of an indulgence." He chuckled. Martin did too. Well it was more of a hiccup.

"Ooof... sounds great. Help me up."

They returned to Douglas's home where the first officer was finally able to discover exactly how lovely his captain's full belly felt beneath his lips as he kissed and caressed to his heart's content. He intended to make good on his promise to care for Martin as well and the captain found himself with expertly cooked lunches on flights, lazy breakfasts brought to him in bed, dinners that left him groaning and sighing in pleasure. The result was, as could be expected, two very happy pilots. And one with a much fuller figure.


End file.
